Page 16 of Romanced By the Orc

“Not unquestioning loyalty. That was part of the agreement, was it not? You told us you encourage inquiries.”

“That I do,” Albion said, fists clenching and the tips of his claws extending as they were prone to when angered. “Inquiries related to logistics and stratagem. I did not expect questions regarding my family or my honor. Had you taken the chance to know me better, you would harbor no such doubts.”

“My apologies for the offense given.” Edward lowered his head deferentially, but Albion didn’t think he had assuaged his concerns. “So, what is the plan?”

“I propose we take Jacques out of Chamberly indirectly. By way of the Hidden Realm.”

“How so?” Edward said. "I’ve not traveled to the Hidden Realm.”

Few humans had been there. The Prince Regent’s father, King George, was the first to do so, finding the emissaries from this new land a welcome distraction from the recent loss of theEnglish colonies across the ocean. Then madness had struck the poor man, and a pair of ambassadors had followed up on the king’s pledges for peace and trade between their two worlds. Only diplomats with proven discretion in dealing with foreign courts visited the orcs in their land and under a veil of strict confidentiality.

That was all. That was how orcs preferred it. As little contact as possible. They had survived threats from Rome and even the raids of the Vikings in such a manner.

“But I am given to understand the roads are rough and unreliable,” Edward continued.

“What are you trying to say, Eddie?” William asked.

“Wouldn’t it be best to deliver the missive in person to ensure it meets its mark?”

Albion tried not to smile and failed.

“Is that humorous?”

“I allow it is not,” he said. “Only I can’t imagine the bureaucratic nightmare of getting you into the Hidden Realm.”

“Your brother might help,” Edward replied. “The Duke of Barrington.”

Albion nodded, thinking, He had always felt out of sorts that his mother knew, and Duncan did not, but Edward raised another pertinent point. Given the speed and efficiency of the newest post chaise and fours, one could journey from London to the north of England in several days, even allowing for dining and rest.

But the roads that led directly to the Hidden Realm were intentionally dodgy, laid before Orcan leaders befriended their English neighbors.

“Unless His Grace doesn’t know you’re the Benevolent Phantom,” Edward said.

“Nor does Duncan need to know,” Albion replied. “For his own good. But he can ensure this letter reaches Hugh forthwith. His name carries with it great sway in the Hidden Realm.”

In enlisting his cousin’s help and that of his brother, he had something to offer besides money. Something that these Englishmen did not. Which was a relief. Albion stood out in London. He hid in plain sight, as it were, to attend to strategy and funding. He could not conceal his Orcan self and so dared not risk the dangerous runs past the mercenary forces guarding the souls stranded in Chamberly.

“You needn’t worry.” He reached for the wax stick he kept among the other writing implements to seal the letter with his unique imprint. “I shall ensure this reaches my Cousin Hugh. And the Comtesse will soon reunite with her son.”

CHAPTER SIX

Consider this. A marriage for the sheer fun of it.

The words rang in Diana’s head like the peal of bells whenever she thought about her astonishing banter with Albion Higgins.

He spoke of marriage as a practical arrangement, which was hardly a shock, given that she’d heard matrimony framed in similar terms many times over, mostly from her mother. However, that simple word,fun, intrigued her—so much so that no matter how she tried to focus elsewhere,funbedeviled her.

A gentleman as popular as Lord Albion must have experienced his fair share offun. Indeed, behind raised fans, proper ladies whispered about Albion’s amorous adventures with a young widow, who spoke exceedingly highly of her time with him. Having been the subject of a whispering campaign herself, Diana was skeptical of such tales. Even if they hardly damaged Albion, being of the male persuasion.

So the precise details of these assignations remained a mystery to her. Since their conversation two days prior, she’d spent an undue amount of time shooing away images her mind conjured. At any rate, if these rumors were, by chance, true, better to be the confidante of a popular gentleman than one of his conquests.

Meanwhile, Lillian put her free time to better use with knitting projects for refugees from Chamberly. Word of the Duke of Rostin’s atrocities continued to dominate the papers. Yet, Parliament remained stagnant, unable to agree to an embargo, let alone send troops to assist the families persecuted by Rostin. Lillian’s endeavors would provide comfort, at least. It occurred to Diana, not for the first time, that were women granted a voice, the hallowed chambers of Parliament would operate more efficiently and compassionately.

Her hard-working sister was long overdue for a reprieve. So she convinced Lillian to put the sewing projects aside for an hour so they could enjoy the glorious sunshine that had finally broken through the on-and-off storm of the past week.

At Bloomsbury Square’s wrought iron gate, they approached an older woman selling licorice-tinged sassafras tea from a brass samovar. Diana withdrew coins from her beaded reticule and purchased two cups, which the woman poured into copper mugs to keep the beverages warm.

Lillian looked graceful in a rose-colored cropped jacket and chestnut walking gown. Not a strand of hair fell out of place, nor did a splotch of mud spoil her attire. But as they followed the walkway to the central garden, blossoming poplars caused a sneezing fit, ruffling her sister’s otherwise immaculate composure. Diana struggled to balance her cup as she dug through her reticule again, finally locating a handkerchief to hand to her sister.

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